Upon swans wings, soft and velvety, they flew.
Riding into the light.
Spirits of little ones.
Serenaded,by the sound of beating swans wings, as they fly.
Over the rainbow they will find somewhere safe, surely they will.

Nirvana, Heaven, or Paradise, let them be not lost.
Paradise is twice as nice, no matter how it's dressed.
May music play, to welcome them in.
Lord whoever he may be, presents a serene façade.
His hand is extended, he beckons them in.
(c) Livvi